Dom Vs: Domme: The Deluxe Trilogy: A Billionaire Romance (Dom Vs. Domme Book 0) (80 page)

Her hand presses against my chest, fingers curling up to walk to my throat and flick my skin there. “There is one thing I want, my prince.”

“Prince, huh? Now don’t inflate my ego too hard.” Also, I think this is the first night I’ve heard her call me so many nicknames. Could get used to that.

“Roll over.”

Her wish is my command. My aching body responds with alacrity as I turn on my stomach and stretch my arms above my head, touching the wire frame of her bed. Kathryn rubs my back, kisses my spine…

…And digs her nails into my flesh.

“How satisfying,” she purrs, and I am doing my damndest to not flinch or bite the pillow. “Digging my claws into the man who wants to debut me as a sub. And what do I get, hm? How will I make sure everyone knows that you and I had this moment?”

My head lifts off the pillow. Until now, I didn’t think anyone would know we had “this moment.” Until
now,
I assumed that the night I submitted to Kathryn Alison would be left in secrecy. That way I wouldn’t have to deal with the judgment, the gossip, or the men I usually do business with politely walking away when I have something to bring up.

And yet I am asking her to debut?

I really am an asshole.

“I’d like to point out I’ve never made you bleed,” I growl.

“Don’t worry, my sweet prince.” She pats my cheek. “I’m not a
sadist.
I wouldn’t dream of causing you that kind of pain or scarring this glorious body of yours.”

All right, is she trying to actually flatter me? I have no idea.

“I’ve got my ways. Hold on. Sit still. This won’t hurt, but it might tickle.”

What?

A drawer opens and closes. I’m not actually afraid – pshaw! – but I am wary, especially when something cool touches my back, Kathryn running her tongue over her teeth.

This something doesn’t hurt, but it travels across my skin, leaving behind its marks whenever Kathryn bends down to blow it dry. It doesn’t hurt or tickle. It does, however, confuse me.

“There.” Kathryn tosses whatever it was into her drawer. “Now come here, Prince Ian.”

Tonight I may be a prince to her queen, but I am still a prince, meaning I get a lot of wiggle room. Some would say that me being raised a man of money and social allowances has always made me a prince of some sort. Usually when I think of men calling themselves prince, I think of those young, foolish jerks who are too big for their pants and drive me up the wall. You know the types. I don’t want to be that type.

Here, though, alone with Kathryn, I don’t mind being a prince. Particularly if being a prince means pushing her onto her back and overtaking her with my body, lips, and every ounce of intent swimming through my veins.

“Ian…” I’ve missed hearing my name said that way.

I’ve also missed being in bed with her, Kathryn, the queen of my heart and body.

Chapter 26

KATHRYN

“Dawn Lovett is going to be the biggest pain in the ass about it,” Eva says, going over the list we’ve made on this lazy afternoon. I appreciate her taking one of her precious days off from school and the family business to stop by my place. Not to mention it’s raining outside, and it’s hell on her hair.

While the rain patters on the window, we draw up a list of the Dommes in our circle who will cause a stink after my debut. We’re also going over my debut as a sub, which is scheduled to happen this Saturday night. There’s nothing formal about it. Not like we called up the club and said, “Hey, so, I’ve got this sub I wanna parade around…” Ian and I decided that it had to be that night, although he may or may not have made sure there would be a spot on stage for us during the busiest hour. Yikes.

Which means him and me going over the details, because this is a delicate affair. Nobody will see it coming, which is both good and bad for me.

“Make sure you don’t wear something too trashy.” Eva downs the last of her tea before I pour her another cup. “Also, please don’t tell me he’s going to humiliate you.”

“No, he would never.” Don’t get me wrong – about half the shows at The Dark Hour focus on humiliation, because that’s what a lot of the male subs like. Some of the female ones, too. And when a club like that tries to keep it equal on gender representation across Topping and bottoming, you’re going to see a good amount of trash talking and spanking. If male subs are involved, it means a lot of cock rings too.

Ah, cock rings. How I love them. They look great on a cock like Ian’s.

I’ve told Eva about that night. I went easy on the man, like he went easy on me my first time. And even though he tried to be all macho and tell me he didn’t need any aftercare, well… let’s be honest. His version of aftercare that night was climbing on top of me in bed and thrusting into me until his cock was so worn out he fell asleep two seconds afterward. Also note that the man did not say no to my cuddling and platitudes.

Maybe one day I’ll be rubbing lotion into his skin and kissing away the booboos I gave him. Probably not anytime soon, but for now, I’m satisfied.

He did it. He tried it. He came to me and said he wanted me enough to acknowledge that part of who I am. Ian Mathers will never sub as often as I want to now, but knowing that he could warms the freezing cackles of my deadened heart.

I also may be beyond smitten in love and driving Eva nuts.

“Stop grinning like a dumbass. This is serious. Dawn Lovett donates to your charities.”

“So, me getting spanked once in a while means she’s not going to help out low-income schools anymore? That would be petty as hell.”

“Dawn Lovett
is
petty. She dumps subs because they don’t make the right sounds when they come.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. And no, I’m not wearing anything
trashy.
We’ve already picked out my outfit. It’s basically my Domme outfit but with different makeup and a collar.”

“All right. You guys are going for the theatrics.”

“Hardly.”

“Think about what you’re doing.”

“I’ve been
thinking
about that for weeks now. Why do you think I went off to Europe?”

“Fair enough.”

Sinéad weaves in and out of my feet as we sit at my table by the window. Pathetic mewls hit the air until Eva picks her up and gives her a hug. “Cats look good on you,” I say. “Thought about living up to more stereotypes and collecting them? I hear Jasmine Bliss has more to hand out. Our cats could be siblings.”

“Cute. You’ve picked up lesbian jokes from your boyfriend.”

“He is my boyfriend, isn’t he?”

Eva looks at me, exasperated.

“I swear I’m not one of
those
women.”

The look gets worse.

Okay, so I’m being a bit insufferable. I like to think I’ve earned the right after this long. I’m on the far side to thirty, and have never been in a relationship as serious as this. I don’t count the semi-permanent subs I’ve had over the years. We never reached a point where we were talking about business and living relationships. Meanwhile, Ian’s got crap all over my bathroom sink I constantly have to organize, and I’ve got crap all over his bathroom sink that… I’m constantly organizing.

We’re not moving in together… yet. On that front we’re being practical. Give it a few months, probably until the end of my lease, and then decide from there. I might downgrade to a studio apartment farther out to save some money, because there
will
be days I need to get away from his dominant personality, or at least to have a guaranteed escape where Ian’s forced to talk to a doorman to come up and see me.

We are most definitely not talking about marriage yet. Hilariously, I think Ian would be more relaxed about the idea than
me.
I’m not the type to sit here and doodle out names like, “Kathryn Mathers,” or “Kathryn Alison-Mathers.” I’m more the type to cackle at the thought of, “Ian Alison” or “Ian Alison-Mathers.”

My name sounds better in the front. Don’t you think so?

Of course it does.

I’m sitting here, smiling like an idiot while Eva mumbles about insufferable heterosexuals, when the doorbell rings.

Um, excuse me. I didn’t have anyone shown up after they buzzed in. So what’s the deal?

I warily glance at Eva before going to the door. Nobody’s there.

Nobody, but there is the city scandal rag lying at my feet.

“What the…” I don’t subscribe to this. Nevertheless, I pick it up, reading the fresh headline that makes my breath still in my chest.

“HOLLYWOOD SWEETHEART STEPHANIE MAY LIED ABOUT EVERYTHING.”

“Oh my God,” I hear Eva behind me snort. “Bring that shit in here.”

For once, I find myself obeying a fellow Domme.

The front page article is absolutely outrageous. From the first word, Stephanie May is slammed with a pile of receipts that claim she not only lied about her age –
by ten years! –
but that she was previously married to a man fifty years her senior and had one kid by him. A son. That she hasn’t talked to since she bailed on him five years ago.

Both Eva and I whistle.

There isn’t a kind word about her. Between the lies and the shitty, neglectful mom angle, it’s safe to say that Stephanie is having one of the worst days of her life. She’s reportedly been dropped by half her promotional contracts and a big director who was scouting her has now decided to go with another up and coming actress.

Ouch.

Inside, though, I’m howling in laughter.

This must be Caroline’s work. My hunch that she hired a private investigator must have been a good one, because this is the kind of dirt only a real pro outside of the tabloids could have dug up. Stephanie’s career is ruined. Dominic Mathers is mentioned once as her current love interest, with the paper further slamming Stephanie for moving on to the father of the man she was previously involved with.

“For more on this matter, turn to Page 6.”

Before Eva can finish reading the smack about Stephanie, I flip the pages until I’m…

I’m looking at pictures of Ian and me.

“Uh oh.”

Eva ain’t shitting. Uh oh is right.

“Romance between two powerful families? A credible source states that playboy Ian Mathers and Kathryn Alison, a local rich philanthropist, are getting serious. The couple has been seen enjoying time alone at high-profile restaurants and, most recently, at the opening ball for the reopened Grand Hotel. But that’s not all! Rumor also has it that these two share more in common than money and work projects. Both Mathers and Alison are known dominant personalities in the local kink scene. So who’s serving who? A photo too salacious to print suggests that it’s Ms. Alison who is making some changes to her personal life.”

Eva yanks the paper from my hands and tosses it onto the garbage.

We’re silent. My gut says call Ian, but my gut also really wants to throw up.

Chapter 27

IAN

I know something is terribly wrong when I pick up my phone and see a dozen harried messages from Kathryn.

There’s a gathering behind me. My father, his friends, some of my friends, a bunch of fraternity bullshit we Mathers have been sucked into since my grandfather’s time. About once or twice a year, we boys of the exclusive Beta Kappa Phi meet up to talk about the good ol’ days of drinking too much and waking up to find a bevy of women in our beds.

You know, typical male bonding.

Today’s bonding isn’t what you normally find in Man Land, however. When I showed up today, I found my father halfway to drunk and telling two friends about the horrible way he and Stephanie finally had to break up.

Apparently she’s closer to my age than any of us thought. Close enough to say
she’s older than me.

Also, she has a kid that she conveniently never mentioned to anyone, including the kid.

And something about an old and dead husband conveniently targeted for his money.

I mean, the horror story continues.

Here I am, laughing into my expensive beer, wishing I could tell my father I told you so. Yet somehow I doubt that’s why Kathryn is killing my phone.

Well, it has to do with the paper, but not for the reason I thought.

Apparently a little birdie has been talking about Kathryn and me.

“At least one of us is having a good day for love,” my father says, nearly slurring. He never slurs unless he’s depressed and drinking at the same time.

“Were you
really
in love with Stephanie?” I counter.

To the tune of “you old dog” and “she’s still a hot young piece of ass to me” from his buddies, my father rubs the top of his graying hair and says, “That’s beside the point. No man likes being lied to like that.”

“No man likes it when his dad steals his girlfriend, either.”